True luck exists not
by TheMarauder1967
Summary: In which Lily loses a bet.


_You_

 _are the poem_

 _I never knew how to write_

 _and this life_

 _is the story_

 _i have always_

 _wanted to_

 _tell_

 _\- tyler knott gregson_

Lily severely underestimated James' pride. And his ability to play Quidditch. It really, _really_ wasn't James' skill, though. It was Ravenclaw's fault for _losing._ He probably bribed them to lose. Realistically, that is the _only_ explanation. It has nothing to do with him being good at Quidditch.

If she's being _honest_ with herself, and she will never admit it out loud to _anyone,_ it is perhaps _slightly_ her own fault for making the bet in the first place. They are, after all, only in sixth year and James is already being head-hunted by major Quidditch team scouts. So she may have agreed to this bet when she was angry at him for being so big-headed and bragging that he was the best thing that had happened to the Gryffindor Quidditch team since the 1800s. Granted, he was slightly (very) drunk.

And when Lily had objected and told him he was being big-headed – also slightly (very) drunk – he obviously had no other option than to bet he could win the next five games Gryffindor play in a row. She probably would have gotten away with it, too, if it weren't for the fact that they were surrounded by their peers, all of whom tended to develop a keen interest when Lily and James started bickering, and especially so when they were drunk. Had they not been watching, she would have been able to wake up the next morning, as would James, having forgotten the whole incident, as are the benefits of alcohol. But, much to Lily's immediate dismay and James' immediate glee, she was reminded the second she arrived at breakfast the next morning. Thus, Lily now had little choice but to follow through with the situation that she had unwittingly managed to get herself into.

She casts one, last, disdainful glare at the mirror and left the dorm, ignoring her friends' gleeful calls after her. One, Mary, followed her down to the common room, giggling the entire way.

"So, _Lily,_ " She placed emphasis on Lily's name as though she were implying something that Lily was supposed to know, "are you excited?"

Lily casts a scowl in her friend's direction, _"thrilled,_ " she says scathingly, sarcasm dripping from her words.

Mary merely giggles, "Its only a _date,_ " she comforts, but she doesn't look too sympathetic, "half the girls in the school would kill to be in your position."

Lily rolls her eyes, "if it were ' _only a date'_ " she glares some more on the word _date,_ "it wouldn't be so bad. But," she pulls a face, "it's a date with _James Potter,_ so…". She trails off, hinting at something neither of them want to say.

By this point, they've reached the common room, and Lily slumps back onto the sofa furthest from the fire. She watches the flames from across the room, entranced by the dancing oranges and yellows before she remembers she's supposed to be angry. Mary keeps talking about something Lily's not listening to – presumably something to do with an upcoming party her current Hufflepuff fling is having. The Hufflepuffs do, Lily concedes somewhat distractedly, throw good parties. Something to do with them being located so closely to the kitchens, she supposes. They always get the good leftovers.

"It's going to be _fine,_ " she mutters to herself, and Mary snorts from beside her, not seeming convinced by Lily's lacklustre approach to dating one of the most popular boys in the school.

"You know, you should at least _try_ to relax and enjoy the date. It's only going to be, what, five hours at most?" Mary sights. She's had to grow used to Lily's tendency to be over-dramatic when it comes to matters involving James Potter.

"Five _hours_?" Lily tears her gaze away from the fire and stares at her friend, suddenly worried, "What are we supposed to _talk_ about for five _hours_?"

"I'm sure we'll figure something out, Red."

James stares at himself in the mirror. He's inexplicably _nervous._ It's a feeling he hasn't had since before the first quidditch game he played. It's _odd._ James Potter doesn't _do_ nervous. He does confident and casual and cocky. His hair looks fine, he knows this. Its dark and looks exactly like he just finished playing quidditch but in a _good_ way not the disgusting, sweaty way it looks after a particularly gruelling match.

He shakes his head at himself and ignores Sirius' snort from behind him.

Somehow, he's ended up going on a date with _Evans_ of all people. And, unlike he always thought it would be, it's because of her and not him. Thank _fuck_ he was able to win that last quidditch match. He thought for certain they were going to lose when Baker had the quaffle, but Sirius managed to hit him with a bludger just as Dorcas caught the snitch.

"Hey, Moony. Does James' hair look alright to you? I'm not sure he's styled it _right_ yet. He's only tried 17 times, though, so I suppose we should give him a couple more attempts," Sirius deadpans, eyes glistening with mirth.

"Fuck _off_ Sirius," James says, for what feels like the hundredth time in the last hour.

Remus smirks, ignoring Sirius' comments. Despite their constant ribbing and jokes at James' expense since Gryffindor won the last game against Ravenclaw, he knows that, deep down (very deep, apparently) they are all incredibly happy for him. Sirius has been smiling more, lately, and keeps alluding (to a _very_ unimpressed Lily) that she might one day have children with dark hair and glasses and green eyes that happen to be very skilled at quidditch. Peter grins and winks, also _very_ unsubtly, to Remus whenever Lily and James are anywhere near each other.

It's Remus, though, whose reaction has somehow had the biggest impact, but its also the only one that's even remotely subtle. He's doing it now, James recognises as he once again catches his eye in the mirror, smiling softly as though something he's been working on for ages as finally come together. James doesn't really understand _why,_ though. It's not like Remus ever joined in when James was asking Lily out – at least, not after second year.

James sighs, and once again returns his attention to himself in the mirror. There's nothing in his teeth, he's checked, and his hair is _fine,_ no matter _what_ Sirius says, and he's dressed okay (he has had what he's going to wear planned since they won the third game, but he won't admit that to _anyone_ ).

There's nothing to be nervous about, he reassures himself. He's done this before. Plenty of times, in fact. More than Sirius (not that Sirius will ever admit that).

"You _excited_ for your _date,_ Jamie?" Sirius sits up, voice lilting and mocking.

"They grow up so fast," Remus adds, putting his hand on his heart, looking dramatically off into the distance.

"Make sure you don't miss curfew, young man," Sirius adds, voice barely hiding his laughter, wagging his finger slightly at James.

James casts a glance at Peter, willing him to say something, _anything,_ to defend James.

"Have fun!" Peter says instead, "But don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"That leaves… absolutely nothing Pete," Sirius cracks, laughter still echoing through his voice, "we want him to have _some_ fun, I can't be the fun uncle if I don't have any nieces or nephews."

James rolls his eyes, "It's a _date,_ Sirius. And it's a date she doesn't even want to go to, so I wouldn't get your hopes for nieces and nephews up too high."

Sirius laughs, like he has a secret that James doesn't know about. James can do nothing but narrow his eyes.

"Go," Remus interrupts, "its not a good first impression if she's waiting for you for ages."

James wonders why all of his friends are taking this _bet_ so seriously. Casting one last glance at himself in the mirror, he takes a breath in and leaves the room – and his friends (Sirius is still cackling) – behind him.

He's just walked into the common room, when he nears Mary's voice, quiet and somehow managing to be soothing and mocking at the same time. "You know, you should at least _try_ to relax and enjoy the date. It's only going to be, what, five hours at most?" Mary sights. James is sure he's heard Lily bitching about the fact she's being _forced_ into a date with him for most of the last week.

"Five _hours_?" Lily tears her gaze away from the fire and stares at her friend, suddenly worried, "What are we supposed to _talk_ about for five _hours_?"

"I'm sure we'll figure something out, Red." James hears himself saying. At least he _sounds_ confident, he supposes. That's a good thing, right?

Lily looks up, shock evident on her face.

She looks _nice,_ James thinks, suddenly. Like she's made an _effort._ He doesn't know what he was expecting, but not this. She's done her hair, half of it pulled back into some twisted thing he doesn't really understand, and half of it down and in curls down her back. It looks _redder_ somehow, like someone spilt red wine down her back rather than the usual soft brown-orange it usually is. He feels himself blink, but neither says anything. She's wearing makeup, too. Whatever that stuff is that goes on eyelashes, and her eyes look bigger and wider and he doesn't know the first thing about makeup, but he knows Lily has done hers well.

He swallows, suddenly feeling awkward.

Luckily, he's interrupted by his thoughts by Lily. She slaps her hands against her legs and stands up, "Well", she says, "Where are we going then, Potter?"

This, for some reason, earns her a " _Lily,_ be _nice."_ From Mary, and James momentarily wonders if it would be rude to invite her along as a buffer. Lily rolls her eyes.

"Hogsmeade," he says.

"The next Hogsmeade weekend isn't for another two weeks," Lily tells him flatly.

This, James can handle. Her being snappy and sarcastic, that's fine. He knows that territory. He winks, "When there's a will, there's a way, Evans." He holds his hand out, "you coming?"

Reluctantly, and shooting a dirty look at Mary, Lily slips her hand into James'. It's warm, James notices. Warm and soft. Briefly, he wonders if his own hand is sweaty, and _hopes_ its not.

His hand feels _weird._ She always thought his hands would be gross-feeling because of the excessive quidditch and general tom-foolery that he partakes in. He leads her through the door, and she follows blindly, unsure of this situation.

She's been on dates before, of course. But this feels _new._ It feels like she's in documented waters, moving without any help whatsoever. Naturally, she's had plenty of help. For some reason, her friends felt the need to be involved excessively with this whole date-thing. The makeup feels _weird_ and very un-Lily-like on her skin, but that might be because it's not _hers._ Mary forced her (quite literally, she was frozen by some _spell_ Dorcas found) to sit still for an _hour_ while Marlene and Mary moved around her, manipulating her face and making her hair do things she didn't even think were possible. Does it even _count_ as a date if your drunk-self forces you into it?

" _So,_ " James says, somewhat forcefully, like he doesn't really know what to say, "how's your day been?"

Lily snorts. He's _awkward,_ she realises. He doesn't know how to deal with this, just as much as _she_ doesn't know how to deal with it.

"Really, Potter?" She says, and he blinks, looking startled, "Small talk? I would have thought we're past that, we've known each other for five years."

James is quiet for a second as they walk through the halls, "six," he says, eventually.

"What?"

"Five. We've known each other for five years. Well, we're in seventh year so six and a half really," He says it like it's a big deal to him, that Lily got that wrong. She looks up at him, eyes studying his face and it hits her again how inherently _weird_ this situation is. There's silent for a couple more minutes, before James laughs a little nervous laugh, "this is weird, huh, Red?"

Lily's relieved, immediately, "weird is an understatement, Potter, you're right about something" she admits, laughing.

"Maybe it would help," James starts, "If you didn't call me Potter?"

Lily processes this, "That's fair enough, _James_ "

Its odd, hearing her call him _James_ instead of _Potter,_ or _Dickhead,_ or any other insult he can think of. It's odd, but it's the sort of odd James can see himself getting used to.

There's silence as they walk through the halls again. Their hands are still entwined and its so fucking _weird._ It's only just past four o'clock, but it's a Saturday, so the castle halls are relatively empty of students. James assumes most of them are wrapped in common rooms where there's at least a fire to keep people warm in the cold December evenings. He's quiet – he doesn't want to open his mouth and say the wrong thing – as he leads her through the castle to the Astronomy Tower.

Its nearly Christmas, and the sky is already starting to darken. James smiles. He's had this date planned since roughly fourth year when he realised he _actually_ liked the girl with the ginger hair and the annoyingly pretty smile, and he wasn't just asking her out to piss her off. He knows it like the back of his hand, and it starts here. Granted, he didn't think she'd be here because she lost a bet, and that it would be _slightly_ later, but its England and the sun sets at four o'clock in the winter, so here he is.

Lily starts to say something and stops. She's still holding his hand, despite the fact there's no one around to see. For some reason, James feels like that means something.

"You know," She says, carefully, "seeing as we're both here, we may as well make the most of it."

"What do you mean?" James asks, _finally_ letting go of her hand (he doesn't want to, but he does anyway) and bracing his arms against the railings around the edge of the platform. They're freezing cold.

"Well," she looks like she's regretting what she's saying even as she says it, but she says it anyway, "for the sake of tonight, its going to be less weird and uncomfortable if we get along."

James frowns at her, narrowing his eyes playfully, "Who are you and what have you done with Lily Evans?" He asks, and she laughs.

It's not the first time he's made her laugh. There was the time in second year when he told a joke (he can't even remember the joke, but he remembers her laugh), and when she beat him in a duel in fourth year, and lately, since they've become sort of friends, he's made her laugh when she's drunk. Drunk Lily, he's learnt, laughs at _everything._

This feels different, though. This is a laugh that only he can hear, and it feels like it's meant for him.

"This is quite cliché, you know," She tells him, joining him by the railings. Her hair is flying about her shoulders, whipping around in the wind. Her arms are wrapped around herself, and he shrugs off his jacket to put on her shoulders. She doesn't push him away and it feels like a victory, "now," lily laughs again, "its _very_ cliché."

"Clichés are clichés for a reason," James shrugs.

Lily narrows her eyes, but there's mirth in them, "How many girls have you brought up here, Potter?" she used his surname again, and he noticed it, of course he noticed it, but there's a teasing lilt to her voice so he knows she's not being serious. She shifts slightly, pulling his jacket tighter around her.

She doesn't know _why_ she asked the question. She doesn't _care_ how many girls he's brought up here, and she doesn't want him to mistakenly _think_ she cares because she _doesn't._

James smiles, slightly, "one."

Sirius wanders down to the common room, map in one hand and a bottle of gin in the other. He's followed by Peter and Remus, who both look slightly bemused by the whole situation. Mary's sat on the sofa furthest from the fire, playing some muggle card game against Marlene and, by the looks of it, she's losing. Dorcas is sat beside her, feat kicked over the arm of the sofa, and head by Mary's lap.

A slow grin spreads across Sirius' face as he marches over and throws himself on the sofa opposite them, landing beside Marlene. She looks up and scowls for a second before her face breaks out in a smile. Dorcas looks up from her book, and flips herself round so she's sat upright, and a similar smile to Marlene's appears on her own face.

"You have to make an entrance, don't you, Black?" Mary quips, humour in her tone. He winks at her before moving up to allow Remus and Peter to sit down beside him. The six friends sit in silence for a couple of seconds, grinning at each other, before Mary breaks the silence with a giggle.

"Well I, for one, cannot believe they fell for that," Remus says. He's relaxed, feet on the coffee table between the two sofas and his arm slung round the back of the chair. Sirius can't help but compare him to the shy, awkward, lanky eleven year old who didn't know right from left.

Sirius slams the bottle on the table, and Peter produces some glasses, "Well, I think we deserve a drink for pulling that off. Best prank we've done yet, huh Wormy?" he slings an arm round Peter's shoulders and Peter laughs.

Once they've all got a suitable (highly inappropriate amount, considering most of them are underage) amount of gin in each of their glasses, they raise them in a toast, already laughing and leaning into each other, "To _Lames"_ they chorus, and Dorcas cynically adds, "The most in love couple who are not yet a couple."

Mary rolls her eyes, " _How,"_ she says, "Lily has not realised she fancies James Potter is beyond me. All she _does_ is talk about him."

Marlene takes a sip of gin, putting on a high-pitched voice that sounds nothing like Lily (or so Lily would protest in a high-pitched voice), _"I'm fed up of James Potter and his stupid hair and his stupid jawline and his stupid quidditch."_

Peter grins, putting on a faux-James voice that is surprisingly accurate, "She's so _angry_ all the time, how can one person that small have that much _anger._ "

The group laughs, and Remus shakes his head, "We had to do something, really," he says, "it would be unkind if we let them carry on thinking she still hates him."

The group of friends, you see, had gotten fed up with their retrospective friends and had decided to join forces. It wasn't difficult, really, to concoct. Most of the Gryffindor house was up for the idea, given as they were the ones who had to listen to Lily and James' near-constant bickering, and so a plan was laid. The first step was simple; to get both of them drunk. All they had to do was wait for a Gryffindor victory, and wait for the subsequent party that would doubtless follow.

The second part was also easy; wait for the two of them to find something to argue about. Nowadays, it wasn't so much arguing as it was bickering. Remus has a whole theory about it being because they don't know how else to talk to one another, and Sirius thinks he's on to something. This happened about an hour and a half after the party started, and then it all took was for Sirius and Marlene to put the idea in both of their heads that they should make a bet.

That step proved unnecessary when the pair woke up the next morning remembering very little about the night before and, presumably, with splitting headaches.

"It was fairly easy, really, wasn't it?" Peter comments, pouring some more gin into his glass.

"Wasn't nearly as difficult actually getting them to go through with it as much as I thought it was going to be," Dorcas agrees, "Lily was only mildly annoyed."

Mary rolls her eyes, "You didn't have to sit next to her the next day while she recovered."

Marlene shrugs, "Everyone's moody when they have a hangover." She shifts on the sofa, moving to the edge so she can peer round Sirius at Remus, "How was James?"

Sirius scoffs and Peter chuckles into his cup. Remus ignores them, "Nervous, weirdly," he says, smiling a little, "I haven't seen him like that since before his first quidditch game."

The conversation drifts from there, reminiscing about said quidditch game and the party that they were all far too young to attend that followed. Sirius watches them, throwing in the odd comment every now and again, calm and happy, and he smiles.

" _One,_ " Lily asks, incredulous, _"One_ girl? Who was the lucky girl then?" There's a stab of jealousy, then, that she's not the only girl he's brought up here. She pushes it down, dismisses it as being a reaction to a weird situation. They're in a romantic setting, on a date and she's wearing his jacket (which, by the way, smells like him and has he _always_ smelt this good?), so _of course,_ she's bound to feel things she wouldn't normally be feeling. It's just a blip, though, and it doesn't mean anything.

"Oh, Red," James says, running his hand through his hair (stupid hair), "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were jealous."

Lily notices immediately that he avoided the question. She blinks, tilting her face up at him, "I'm curious as to why you haven't monopolised this as a key hookup spot, actually. It's such a good place its even tricking me into think you're not an arrogant toerag." Lily was quite impressed by how quickly she thought of that, to be completely honest. She's not used to feeling flustered.

"Ah," James nods, bracing his fore arms back against the railings, "well, the answer to your question is, she's you. You're the only girl I've ever brought up here." He pauses, she had been honest, hadn't she? She'd said she was beginning to like him, whether romantically or otherwise, it's a start. James wasn't the sort to back down out of cowardice, so, after a moment's hesitation he adds, "Far too romantic to throw away on any old girl."

He doesn't see the smile that graces Lily's lips because she made sure to hide it, ducking her head and pretending to focus on the setting sun. It's beautiful, really. The oranges and the reds and the darkness setting in.

"It's beautiful," Lily whispers. And then, "thank you, James."

James could make a joke, here. But he doesn't, "no worries."

There's silence, then, until the last of the red and the gold has set and there's nothing left to do but talk. The pair stood, side by side, arms _almost_ touching but not quite (James _hates_ the word 'almost', it's the cruellest word in the English dictionary in his opinion) and hair dancing with each other in the wind.

"And," James says, reasonably dramatically, holding his hand out and bowing slightly to Lily. She tries to hide her smile slightly, or reign it in, but he can _tell_ she's actually having fun with him of all people, "thus begins the rest of the evenings entertainment."

"I'm intrigued," Lily offers, biting her lip slightly and taking his hand.

"There are, however, some ground rules," James warns, voice still oh-so-dramatic, Lily blinks curiously looking up at him, wondering what on _earth_ he could say now. "Firstly, we're all about the fun," cheesy, but somewhat manageable, "Second, no bickering and no worrying about breaking the school rules, I know what I'm doing and we won't be caught," Lily is now, definitely worried and she's sure it shows on her face. Judging by how James immediately rolls his eyes and says, a little bit more seriously, "we'll be fine, Lily, don't worry," before resuming his dramatic tone, "Now, the third is the most serious, and, no matter what happens, you mustn't fall in love with me."

(Lily wonders why her heart skips several beats, but blames it on the chocolate she ate while getting ready)

Lily nods, echoing his serious expression, "Don't worry, James, that won't be a problem."

(James hopes it very much _will_ be a problem.)

It takes about an hour for them to complete the short trip to Hogsmeade, where James has somehow managed to trick Rosmerta into thinking that they've got special permission from Dumbledore to be out of school on this particular night. Most of said hour is spent convincing Lily that yes, he's used this particular tunnel hundreds of times and that, yes, he is perfectly sure its safe, and that _no,_ he has never been caught.

Eventually, she agrees, and that's how she finds himself sitting opposite James Potter, of all people, in a booth at the back of the Three Broomsticks, laughing as she kicks his feet every three seconds under the table. It's easy, she finds, talking to him when they're not arguing. He has hundreds of interesting stories, and she doesn't find herself watching the clock like was supposed to be doing. Rather, Lily finds herself _having fun._

They both order burgers, and Lily spends way longer than is necessary making fun of the way James eats a burger (with a knife and fork, the weirdo) and even longer smiling at him when she doesn't think he's watching.

"Twenty questions, go." James says, just as Lily was going to ask him when exactly he became less of a dickhead.

She pauses, thinking, "First kiss."

James rolls his eyes, " _Boring,_ and, might I add, incredibly _cliché_ of you," he puts on a voice for the last part, no doubt attempting to sound posh, and Lily can't help but roll her eyes fondly, motioning for him to answer the question, "But, seeing as you asked, Melissa Hartgrove."

"Who?"

"Ah, ah, Evans, you only get one question. Its my turn now." She doesn't point out that they weren't supposed to be using surnames because James says it in the same way she said _Potter_ earlier. Like it's a nickname, rather than a formal term. James pauses, "first time you realised you had magic."

Lily pauses, a fond smile tugging her lips up at the memory and James hopes, _wishes,_ that she looks back at this evening like that one day, "I was nine," she said, quiet, soft, "and I was so _angry,_ I can't even remember at what," she shakes her head and James is noticing _every tiny_ movement she does - "and I set the house on fire." She laughs, still amused by how shocked she was.

Laughing for Lily, James notices, is a three-step process. She tilts her head back ever so slightly and then her mouth pulls into a smile, and _then_ she makes the noise; a quiet, barely-there peal of laughter that he has to strain to hear. It's a private laugh, James thinks.

"Anyway," Lily is saying, when he's finally pulled himself back to the present, "the firemen could find no cause of the fire, _obviously,_ and I thought I was a horribly dangerous witch for ages, like the one in the Wizard of Oz-" she pauses, to explain what the Wizard of Oz was exactly, "it's a muggle book, very good – but eventually I got my Hogwarts letter, and…" she shrugs like he knows the rest of the story.

He _wants_ to.

The evening draws on, and neither one notices as the pub empties. Eventually, they're the only two left, sat in the booth. They're no longer opposite each other, and have somehow managed to move so that Lily leans against James (she's still wearing his jacket, and James will count that as a win _every time_ ) as he gives her a list of the best pranks he's ever pulled (in his opinion) while she chips in every now and again with _I knew that was you four,_ or _James I know that one wasn't you because Marlene spent a month planning it, stop showing off._

They're comfortable, happy. And its still _weird,_ Lily thinks, laughing as he finishes another story, that she thought she hated him seven hours ago. His hair has fallen down from the perfectly-styled quiff that he had at the beginning of the evening, and Lily thinks she prefers it like this, natural and dark and getting in the way of his glasses. She's overcome, suddenly, by how attractive he actually is. She hadn't noticed it, before, hadn't _let_ herself notice it before, but he is. His eyes are brown but there's something in them that is constantly _cheerful._

"Lily?" James stops talking, and looks at her, suddenly nervous again.

"Yeah?"

"I don't think I ever said this, but, uh, thank you?" He says it like it's a question, like he's not sure how to deal with it, and doesn't really know _how_ to thank her. She stares at him, bewilderment evident in her eyes, "for, uh, the thing with Remus."

"What thing with Remus?" Lily asks, still confused.

"Y'know," James mutters awkwardly, "the _thing,_ with the-" he makes some sort of gesture Lily has no hope of translating. James rolls his eyes, "you know, his _furry little problem."_

Realisation dawns on Lily and she grins, "You know, whenever I heard you calling it that before I knew I always thought he had a problematic rabbit or something that was too sensitive to bring up in front of him."

James laughs, and suddenly they're talking about something _else_ for another hour. They're closer now, much, much, much, closer than they were before. His leg is against Lily's leg and his arm is pressed against hers and his hand and her hand are so close they may as well be holding hands, and he's _so close._ And something inside Lily _clicks_ and it's like its all slotting into place and oh.

Something, somewhere in the back of her brain thinks _your hand touching mine is how galaxies collide,_ and its very closely followed with _Oh fuck._

It hadn't been a _blip_ outside the astronomy tower. It hadn't been her heart skipping a beat because of the amount of _sugar_ she ate while she was getting ready. It hadn't been her suddenly noticing he was attractive it was her suddenly _realising._

Lily hadn't let herself see passed the little bubble around her and she regretted it now, now that she was sat, pressed against James _Potter,_ and he's laughing at something she said (he has a really nice laugh) and then, suddenly his arm is around her and her head is on his chest and they're doing something they've never done before. They're _hugging._

They walk back to the castle, slow and steady, like neither of them want the evening to end (they don't). Somehow, Saturday night has turned into Sunday morning. They've been together, alone, for nearly ten hours, and that's a long time to spend with one person, Lily thinks. Especially when you thought you didn't like said person when the ten hours began.

All too soon, however, they arrive back at the dorms. Lily thanks James, as it protocol for dating, for a _lovely_ time, and she's surprised (and he is too, apparently) to find she means it.

 _I wouldn't mind doing it again, some time._ She wants to say, but doesn't.

Lily understands that timing is key.

She kisses his cheek, ignores how his eyes light up (maybe he does _actually_ fancy her) and makes the walk to her dorm.

"How'd it go?" Mary asks, the second she walks in.

"Why are you up?" Lily asks suspiciously, eyeing her friends as they all look at her, eagerly waiting for a response.

Marlene rolls her eyes, "to see how it went." She pauses, clearly waiting for Lily to respond, which she doesn't, "how _did_ it go?"

Lily frowns, "I'm in love with sodding James Potter," she throws herself onto her bed, ignoring the gleeful stares of her friends.

Dorcas bites a smile, "We know, honey."

Lily scowls, lifting her head from her pillow, "and not one of you had the decency to tell me?"

Mary smiles, sarcasm dripping from her words, "yes, and you would have _completely_ believed us!"

"Leave me alone." Her friends all laugh.

As the night slowly begins to fade into day, Lily lies awake, staring at the wall above her bed. She wonders what Potter is doing.

"So how'd it go?" Remus asks, dragging out the 'so' for far longer than necessary at the same time Sirius asks "did you get laid?"

James, wisely, he thinks, choses to ignore Sirius and focus on Remus, "I don't think she hates me anymore," he says carefully, "but I don't think she fancies me so I may as well put that to bed."

Sirius glares at the ceiling and then throws a shoe at Peter to get him to stop snoring, "stupid _women_ ," he mutters angrily, "ruining _everything_."

"How was the actual evening, though, Prongs?" Remus repeats, and Sirius scowls at him across the room, as if to say _don't give him hope._

A smile slips across James' face before he can stop it, sad and wistful and happy and in love all at once, "Really good, actually." He nods once, as if to confirm this to himself, "yeah, really good."

It would be another six months before Lily would finally have the courage to confess to James that she's in love with him, and it would be six months and a day before James would forgive her to being the one that asks _him_ out when it finally happens.

It would take James performing a Patronus and seeing hers is a doe and his is a stag to connect the dots, and realise that _maybe_ Evans does fancy him back a little bit, and it will take James kissing Lydia Stevenson from Ravenclaw in the Gryffindor common room for Lily to realise she needs to get her act together.

It would be six months of James and Lily going for walks around the lake once every two weeks on a Friday afternoon because they _happened_ to share that as a free period and there's nothing else to do (everyone has that as a free period, so there's _plenty_ to do). It would be six months of James and Lily dating (everyone else is aware of it apart from them). And it would be six months of Sirius doing a strip-tease because its four in the morning and they're _way_ too drunk, and Marlene has fallen asleep in a ball in the corner, and Mary and Peter playing their 53rd game of Exploding Snap that _evening_ because they can't stop until someone has _won_ and James and Lily catching each other's eye across the commotion and smiling.

It would be the sixth months in which all eight of the teenagers realise that home isn't four walls and a ceiling, its people and happiness and laughing so hard you cant breathe.


End file.
